


Indomitable Hearts

by Infrared, Jessocalypse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Angst, Banter, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Development, Companionable Snark, Dimension Travel, Emotional Baggage, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hawke Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jokey Hawke doing his best to keep the merry band of misfits together, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Lost Love, Mage Rights, Mages, Magic-Users, Male-Female Friendship, Modern Character in Thedas, Multi, Mutant Powers, Mutant Rights, Mutants, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Professor X is alive, Psychological Trauma, Purple Hawke, Purple Hawke is the best Hawke, Romance, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tragic Romance, and you cannot tell us otherwise, some canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:07:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infrared/pseuds/Infrared, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessocalypse/pseuds/Jessocalypse
Summary: "We have awesome powers. It is our birthright. And, perhaps, our burden."  —Charles XavierSeparated for years after a falling out, two mutant women find each other again under dire circumstances, only to be swept immediately into a strange, fantastical world. As if the fight for survival as a minority wasn't dire enough on Earth, Lane Ramsey and Emery Cruz soon find themselves smack in the middle of a similar struggle within Thedas. Teaming up with Garrett Hawke and his merry band of misfits, they must fight together to save both both this new world and their own. Superpowers and magic join forces in an epic tale of strength, friendship, love and war.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting factoid: this story began as a fun little RP that we eventually decided to revise and write as a legit fanfic. We've put an awful lot of work into the story and characters and we're pretty jazzed to finally be posting it! Basically it began as a 'Hey, you know what? Mages and mutants have an awful lot in common - let's see what happens when we throw them together!' type of thing, and, well...now we've got a bank of almost 40 chapters and so far the end is nowhere in sight. Oops!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy the story, and if you have a moment we'd love to hear what you think - we love feedback of all kinds. :)

The sky was clear. If not for all the light pollution from the city, millions of stars would have been visible from her vantage point on top of the roof of the large, seemingly inconspicuous building. A generic-looking logo was emblazoned upon its side, belying its purpose; it could easily be written off as business office full of paper pushers.  
  
The woman quickly scanned her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the bright lights of a nearby billboard that was advertising the latest beauty products.  
  
She walked calmly and deliberately to the door of the roof, jimmying the lock with a pick and prying it loose with the tiniest of clanks. Slipping inside the building, her footsteps were nearly silent on the metal staircase. On the third floor she passed one guard, followed by another a few minutes later. They never noticed her.  
  
Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The office facade was apparently working well in this particular building. There were just the right number of doors leading into offices, bearing metal nameplates of their owners. Just enough windows and bathrooms, a break room and a conference room.  
  
The second floor and the first floor were ordinary as well.  
  
If that were really the case, though—that this building was nothing but an administrative office—then it wouldn’t have been so heavily guarded. There were an abnormal amount of guards, dressed as simple night watchmen, some wearing suits in varying shades of black, all wearing Bluetooth headsets. A small manned booth was at the entrance to the premises, and even a TSA-level type of security check was required to enter further than the foyer of the building.  
  
The mysterious woman opted to scale the building and enter from the top, which was mercifully less guarded and apparently less used.  
  
 She continued her trek through every nook and cranny of the building, palming the walls and touching everything on the furniture that stuck out or appeared to be movable. Nothing out of the ordinary there, either. Not what she was looking for at all. But she wouldn't give up so easily—not until every last possibility had been explored.  
  
Standing back, the spy scratched at her head, perplexed. What she was searching for just had to be right in front of her, but she was somehow missing it. Things were always more easily hidden that way, especially something this delicate.  
  
Feeling a pang in her chest, she thought of the other possibility—that perhaps her search was fruitless yet again. She should be used to it by now, really. For four years she had been looking, and this by far had been the most promising lead.  
  
Four years. Four years of gathering intelligence, late-night stake-outs, clever disguises, painstaking research, sleepless nights devoted to pouring over data files, and lead after lead after lead. All of it had led her to this location. This building. There had to be something here. It was a long shot, but when the stakes were this high, no stone could be left unturned.  
  
She brushed a hand through her dark crop of hair, allowing herself to heave a frustrated sigh. It was then that she noticed a spot that had not yet been through her scrutiny.  
  
Ahead was a short hallway with a water fountain on one side and a door marked 'Storage' on the other. The closet was locked, but she made quick work of opening it with the small tools she carried.  
  
The inside of it was disappointing; a row of cleaners and solvents stacked on a multi-tiered shelf along with paper towels and toilet paper. The adjacent wall had a broom, a mop and a bucket leaned against it.  
  
Shaking her head in disgust, the brunette reached out and palmed the wall, which beeped at her in response.  
  
_'What? Oh…it’s just a thermostat…'_ She'd touched a digital green pad on the wall, which had responded with beeps and flashes of light. _'That's odd,'_ she thought, _'why would there be a thermostat inside of a locked storage closet?'_  
  
The spy pulled out a small flashlight, pointing it toward the wall. The beam shone over the keypad, and she noted that the thermostat itself had a strange name etched on it. It was then that she realized that it was not a thermostat, and her pulse quickened with excitement upon this new discovery.  
  
Shining the beam diagonally across the pad revealed the fingerprints from the well-used hidden combination, allowing her to quickly duplicate the password on the keypad. She nearly jumped when a panel on the floor a few paces away slid open with a hiss, revealing a staircase that led down into the recesses of the building.  
  
After only moment's hesitation, she shone her light into the passage below and began her descent, moving slowly and carefully.  
  
At the end of the staircase appeared a labyrinth of hallways. She also noticed an elevator toward the beginning of the hallway nearest her, meaning this place went down who knew how far and contained who knew what. The number of guards for the building made sense to her now. It seemed that this was not the only secret entrance, as there appeared to be several other spiral staircases.  
  
This would take some time.  She may even need to camp here, she thought, not looking forward to it as her supply pack at her waist did not hold the necessities.  
  
The first hallway contained what looked like an experimental laboratory on one side and a computer lab on the other. She made quick work of the lab's lock and pulled a flash drive from her pack, hopping onto the nearest computer. The screen lit up as she touched the mouse and within a few minutes of hacking, she'd been able to gain entry.  
  
As she browsed through the computer, she came across a large shared drive that contained a hierarchy of folders upon folders. Each one had been given an innocuous name; a jumble of letters and numbers for which she had no inkling of an explanation. She picked a base folder at random and began surfing through it. There were a multitude of sub-folders, all marked with the letter 'X', followed by a dash and combination of numbers.  
  
X-0170 was the first, followed by X-0171, X-0172, X-0173...there were dozens of these folders.  
  
She opened the first one. It contained word documents, spreadsheets, and images. The word documents were named with the base folder's alphanumeric combination, plus a date. Selecting one at random, she skimmed through what could only be described as clinical data. Medical terminology, study findings, and apparently human vitals. The base number from the folder, X-0170, was referenced in the document as the 'subject'.  
  
Her eyes widened as she moved from summary to summary.  
  
It was an experiment. They were testing the effects of some type of beta-drug.  
  
Her heart constricted as she clicked on the image files. Setting eyes on the first photograph, she drew back as if she'd been slapped. The images were set in chronological order and depicted physical side effects that could only be described as gruesome at best.  
  
These were not animal test subjects. They were mutants. Every last one of them.  
  
Fingers trembling and clammy against the mouse, she clicked back to the main folder and began downloading all the files onto her flash drive. Those files were irrefutable proof of the barbaric discovery and needed to be shown to her superiors. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't stand for this. If she brought this evidence to Coulson, he'd put together an entire team of agents to help bring this operation to its knees.  
  
Watching the download bar as it inched its way toward completion, she barely held back tears for these mutants—her people—being treated like little more than lab rats...and to what end?  
  
Fear seized her veins, gripping them like ice as she deposited the flash drive into her pouch. The mutants were here. Here, in this very facility... Her hand went to the left side of her chest, where she pressed a small button on the tiny camera that was clipped to the front of her uniform. Having some footage of the building's interior would be invaluable for when she returned with back-up.  
  
She quickly logged off the computer and began her slow trek down hallway after hallway, determining that this first floor was mostly data-based.  
  
With a sigh, the woman boarded the elevator after waiting several long moments for the nearby guards to move well enough out of earshot. When the doors opened, she was greeted by the sight of a large biohazard sign.  
  
She was getting close.  
  
The next floor down was different. Every wall was stark white and smelled faintly of bleach and some other chemical that she couldn't quite place. Unlike the other floors, though, there seemed to be no guards patrolling this one. From further down the corridors came the faint sound of whistling, and when she poked her head around the corner, she saw a man in a lab coat strolling toward a large set of double-doors at the end of the hall. Above the doors was a large sign that read ‘AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.’ The doors were thick, heavily reinforced and windowless.  
  
Her heart began to pound steadily in her chest. Whatever lay beyond those doors was the reason for all the extensive security measures that she’d managed to bypass thus far.  
  
She slunk along the wall of the corridor, quickly closing the gap between herself and the man in the lab coat. He reached into his pocket to withdraw an ID card, but he never got to swipe it. A swift roundhouse kick to the back of the head and the man was on the floor, unconscious. Plucking the card from his outstretched hand, she quickly pulled the man’s prone form into the nearest supply closet and shut the door.  
  
Holding the ID card tightly between her thumb and forefinger, she hesitated only for a moment before sliding it through the scanner. There was a soft ‘beep’ as the system recognized the ID, and the words ‘ACCESS GRANTED’ flashed on the screen. With a soft hiss, the doors slid open.  
  
She blinked at the sudden brightness flooding in from the large room before her, having to squint a moment before her eyes could adjust to the change in lighting. The walls, floor and ceiling were all an unnervingly pristine white. The scent of bleach was stronger here, though somewhere mixed into the chemicals was the faint, unmistakable odor of blood. As if the personnel had attempted numerous times to scrub away the offending smell to no avail.  
  
Her stomach churned as she advanced into the room, eyes scanning her surroundings and immediately noting the tall partitions lining either side of the room, from floor to ceiling.  
  
Cells, she realized. They were cells. The fronts looked to be made of some sort of bulletproof glass, and each one was marked with a nameplate bearing the same alphanumeric combinations that she had seen in the computer lab.  
  
They had been stripped of their identities. Each mutant behind the glass was no longer considered a person; just a number. An object. An experiment.  
  
She felt the bile rise in her throat, fighting to keep her composure as she numbly shuffled forward. They had not yet seen her—she hadn’t allowed for it. She was peering in from one cell to the next, facing toward each one to ensure that the camera captured as much of the incriminating evidence as possible, when all of a sudden something—someone—made her stop dead in her tracks.  
  
It couldn’t be…  
  
Unable to stifle the gasp as all the air left her lungs, she stared in wide-eyed shock as her legs gave out from beneath her. Her mutant ability deactivated the moment her knees hit the bleached tile floor, and her hand clapped over her mouth in response to the wave of emotion that threatened to consume her.  
  
It was.  
  
The mutant behind the glass was sitting in the corner, knees drawn up and head down, face masked by a curtain of wavy brown hair. But the colorful tattoo peeking from beneath the sleeve of her crisp white shirt was a dead giveaway. There was no mistaking it.  
  
Four years. Four long years, and finally…finally…  
  
The tears began to overflow as the spy uttered the other woman’s name in a ragged whisper. “ _Emery_ …”  
  
From inside the cell, there was no response aside from the slow clench of the other’s fists at her sides.  
  
The spy stood, quietly moving closer and softly rapping on the glass with her knuckles, the wetness in her eyes blurring her vision as she tried again with a stronger voice. “Emery.”  
  
“This again,” came the quiet reply from within the cell, followed by a mirthless chuckle. She lifted her head just enough to fix the other woman with a blank, disconnected look.  
  
The short-haired woman felt a jolt of shock amid the myriad of other emotions. Something was wrong. Her eyes…  
  
“No, Emery, it’s me,” the spy assured her, more tears creating wet tracks down her cheeks as she placed a hand against the glass. “It’s…it’s Lane.”  
  
The other mutant—Emery—continued to stare warily back at Lane, shifting uncomfortably in her spot on the floor, lips forming a hard line on a face distinctly thinner than the one Lane remembered.  
  
“Get out,” came the demand, distinctly hollow and barely above a whisper but accompanied by a glare so sharp that the spy took an unwilling step backward in bewilderment.  
  
“What have they done to you...?” Regret was painted in lines all over Lane's face as she stepped towards Emery's cell, taking a look at the lock to see what was needed to get the door open. She would do whatever it took. "I'm going to get you out of here."  
  
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as simple as a padlock or a deadbolt. No…of course this facility would utilize the latest in security equipment. Emery’s cell, along with all the others, was protected by the latest in biometric technology. It appeared that Lane would need to obtain the corresponding thumbprint in order to open up these doors.  
  
“Psst, hey, lady!” Came a loud whisper from the cell behind Lane. “Bust me out, too!”  
  
There was a muffled thump from another cell as its inhabitant pressed herself against the glass. “Please…! Please get us out!”  
  
“I’ve been here so long,” a third voice chimed in, desperation bleeding through. “I got a family…please!”  
  
Lane’s eyes never left Emery’s, silently pleading with her. “Emery…?”  
  
Yet another mutant nearby began to pound on the glass. They were beginning to cause a commotion, and Lane knew it wouldn’t be long before the guards were alerted to the disturbance. She had one chance at this. If she was caught now, they’d probably never make it out of there together. Time was running out.  
  
“Lady, forget her, she’s never gonna talk to you! Hurry, open my cell!”  
  
Lane tried her best to continue to focus on Emery alone, even though the frantic voices of the other mutant prisoners were starting to eat at her inside. But this was the culmination of a four-year long search, and she wasn't going to leave without Emery.  
  
"Goddammit, Emery! Don't you dare push me away again, don't you fucking dare..." Her voice wavered, indicating she was on the verge of tears once more. "I never gave up on you, not from the moment you threw that first punch at me back at Xavier's school, and I'm not about to start now!"  
  
A soft gasp escaped Emery’s lips just then. Her eyes went wide. For the first time in what had felt like an eternity, she was looking at Lane as though she were truly seeing her.  
  
“Lane…it’s…” Stunned, Emery sat up straighter, blinking several times as if trying to convince herself that was she was seeing was, in fact, reality. She slowly rose to her feet, unable to look away. Her voice was small, eyes glassy and brow furrowed as she uttered, “It’s really you…?”  
  
A momentary smile broke over Lane’s face as she felt a swell of relief. “Yes, it’s me! I’m getting you out of there! But we have to hurry… Whose fingerprints do I need to unlock this door?”  
  
Emery took several steps toward the thick, glass door, never breaking eye contact. “I…” Fumbling for words, she swallowed and shook her head. “One of the scientists’ on this floor, or…or his…”  
  
Lane nodded. "Scientist? Perfect, I'll go grab the one I knocked out." She was about to say 'wait here' but thought the better of it. As if Emery really had a choice... Lane grit her teeth in disgust once more.  
  
Just then, Emery froze. Her eyes darted toward the laboratory’s entrance and then back to Lane again. When she spoke, urgency had replaced her disbelief. “No. It’s too late. You have to get out of here, now.”  
  
“Like hell!” Lane retorted, gritting her teeth. She whirled around to face the direction Emery’s gaze had been directed just a moment ago, but heard nothing. “I told you I’m not leaving without you!”  
  
Both Emery’s hands slammed against the glass. “They’re coming, Lane! You have to leave!”  
  
Lane backed up, pressing herself against the door protectively. “I won’t!”  
  
An alarm began to blare just then, waking the mutants who were still asleep. There came a chorus of grumbles that quickly escalated to panicked pleas when they realized that a stranger had managed to sneak into the compound and was currently in a position to free them.  
  
Cursing under her breath, Lane hurried toward the exit. From behind her, several pairs of footsteps approached. Stopping by the door, she turned around to lock eyes with Emery once more before she activated her ability and vanished from sight.  
  
Moments later, four guards appeared beyond the entrance to the laboratory. The one in front quickly scanned his keycard and they all filed in, a few of them shouting for the inconsolable mutants to quiet down.  
  
"What the fuck is going on here...?" The head guard spat as the shouting around him only increased as many of the prisoners started pounding on the walls of their cells.  
  
"Frank!" One of the other guards yelled out in alarm, having just watched his comrade at the back of the group suddenly fall over unconscious.  
  
Before the rest of the guards could react, the others were suffering the same fate. After quickly incapacitating the group, Lane reappeared above the head guard's prone form. She quickly snatched up all the weapons, tossing their guns to where they couldn't readily get to them when they awoke. Meanwhile, the alarm continued to remind her that she was on borrowed time, and after finishing her task, she sprinted toward the double doors.  
  
The mutant noise got increasingly louder, their protests now mingled with the blaring siren.  
  
Lane retrieved the scientist from the storage closet, thankful that he was still out cold. But he was still very heavy, and Lane couldn't concentrate on keeping her ability active while dragging his 180-some-odd pounds into the laboratory, so she was forced to do it while visible.  
  
"Shit...shit...shit...shit..." As the seconds ticked by, she knew she wouldn't be so lucky as to get away with having to fight off only one guard patrol, but she was going as fast as she could. "SHIT!"  
  
Emery could do nothing but anxiously look on as the chaos unfolded before her. She watched Lane work to drag the scientist's body toward her cell, though her eyes were constantly darting about the room. Her hands clenched into fists against the glass and she had to shout over the cacophony of rioting mutants.  
  
"Lane, stop! You have to get out of here! There's still time!"  
  
But her words were only drowned amid the sea of shouting, and Lane would never have listened to her anyway.  
  
Five more guards came charging through the door, forcing Lane to abandon her task and engage in combat once more. She disappeared in an instant, causing each of the guards to slow down and proceed with caution, weapons held at the ready.  
  
"We have a trespasser!" One of them announced. "Code 0046! Call for b--" She never got to finish her sentence, because just then an unseen force knocked her out with a blow to the back of the head.  
  
"Send in reinforcements!" Another commanded just before meeting a similar fate.  
  
The other three went down in short order, but more of them were coming and Lane knew she couldn't keep this up forever. The moment the last unconscious body hit the floor, she was racing back to the spot where she'd dropped the scientist and picking up where she'd left off.  
  
Almost there!  
  
"Help us! Help us, please!"  
  
"Over here!"  
  
"Come on, lady, let me outta here!"  
  
Lane continued to do her very best to tune out their cries, vowing that the moment she freed Emery, they would both happily release the rest of the mutants as well.  
  
Finally, after what had felt like ages, Lane made it to Emery's cell with the scientist. With some effort, she was able to hoist him up enough so that she could grab one of his arms and press his thumb onto the biometric scanner.  
  
"Lock disengaged," an electronic voice declared. There was a muffled 'click' and the thick glass door slowly slid open.  
  
Emery's eyes followed the door's movement, then locked onto Lane's. Awestruck, her mouth dropped open as she searched for words.  
  
Sensing the hesitation, Lane let the scientist drop to the floor and offered a hand. "Come on, let's get out of here!"  
  
The other mutant reached for Lane's hand, gripping it tight, a renewed hope alight in her eyes as she nodded her assent. "Right. The others..."  
  
"We won't leave them," Lane assured her, glancing over her shoulder as more guards quickly advanced toward them from down the hall. "Do you think you can work on getting the other doors open? I'll distract these guys!"  
  
Nodding once more, Emery released Lane's hand as the other woman dashed toward the door, ready to defend their position. Quickly, she grabbed the arm of the scientist by her door and hauled him over to the next cell to release the anxious mutant within it.  
  
Something made her pause while her comrade issued a quick thank-you and swept past her.  
  
" They're sending mutants!" Emery shouted over the noise in the room, glancing back at Lane as she busied herself combating the new wave of guards. "I can hear their footsteps!" Whirling around on the ball of her foot, she gritted her teeth and lunged in the direction of the door with one hand outstretched.  
  
Before Lane's eyes, all three of the guards were knocked clean off their feet and sent sliding halfway down the hall. Blinking, Lane spared a glance backward, but she didn't have time to wonder because just then she registered Emery's words.  
  
"How many?!"  
  
"Sounds like two!" Emery yelled back as she hefted the scientist's thumb to yet another scanner. "One of them will be Exile. Don't let him touch you!"  
  
"Got it!" Lane shouted in response, wondering exactly what sort of powers the newcomers would have. Exile sounded terrifying, if his ability was anything like she was imagining.  
  
More guards began pouring into the mutant containment area only to be greeted by their captives, who were all to happy to join the fray. The severity with which her fellow mutants fought back was more of a testament to how horribly they'd been treated than the photographic documentation that Lane had seen earlier.  
  
Emery cringed visibly in the next few moments as the sound of heavy footsteps and a feral roar sounded from close by.  
  
"Shit," Emery cursed from nearby, picking up the distant sounds of swifter footsteps accompanying the heavier ones. A feral roar followed, and she shot Lane a warning glance. "He's got Tora with him! Watch the claws!"  
  
Lane narrowed her eyes. "Come on, Amaranth, let's do this. It'll be just like old times." She cracked her knuckles and then phased out of sight, taking down another guard before the coming onslaught.  
  
The booming footsteps only became louder until a man no shorter than seven feet ducked to slide in through the open doorway. His eyes stared down in disapproval, startlingly light against his obsidian skin. He was all muscle, his arms barely contained within the sleeves of his shirt. His mammoth fists pounded together as his eyes narrowed further, only sparing a moment to survey the situation before immediately sending said fists swinging into action and bowling over the first several mutants in his path.  
  
"Right..." Emery felt her breath hitch as she braced herself, quickly reaching up to wipe the sticky warmth from her upper lip before squaring her shoulders and steadying her arms at her sides. Exile would be a lot to take on. She could only hope that the freed mutants around them could manage to pick up where she'd left off while she kept the mammoth busy.  
  
The other enemy mutant, Tora, came right at the heels of Exile. He was nearly the polar opposite of his compatriot;  short in stature, huge yellow eyes with cat-like pupils, orange hair that was neatly slicked back. Most notable were the black stripes that ran along his tanned skin. He moved in a predatory, feline way that was both elegant and unnerving.  
  
Once inside the door, he paused to hold up one hand. There was a loud 'shing' as he protracted sharp, black claws from the tips of each finger. With another roar, Tora jumped into the fray, immediately pouncing on an unsuspecting mutant and clawing him across the chest. Quick as lighting, he leapt away, slashing with precision to subdue the escapees, though he didn't seem to care about friendly fire either.  
  
By now, the noise volume had increased to the point where any and all words were pointless. It was all just a constant clamor of shouts and shrieks. Lane and Emery quickly lost track of each other in all the chaos and violence; Lane doing her best to reign in Tora's wrath, and Emery working to keep Exile busy long enough for the others to get free.  
  
"Stay out of his range!" Emery called out to one of her allies, knocking Exile back with a forceful burst of telekinesis.  
  
But her comrade didn't appear to hear her, only taking advantage of the monstrous man's temporary loss of balance by diving toward him with arms shaped like spears. Exile righted himself in an instant, immediately grabbing the man by the head just before he could land a hit. For a moment, the mutant dangled in the air helplessly. Then, with his free hand, Exile forcefully palmed the glass of the nearest cell...but instead of the expected crash and shatter, he removed his hand to reveal a swirling distortion which appeared to be spiraling inward.  
  
Emery's eyes went wide and she ran toward Exile, sending more short bursts at him, though he only brushed them off as if they were a stiff breeze.  
  
"No!!"  
  
She could only watch while Exile easily tossed his victim into the distortion he'd created. The other mutant screamed, and his own features became momentarily stretched and misshapen as he disappeared within the vortex of warped glass.  
  
"SHIT!" Lane reappeared after being slashed by one of Tora's claws while he'd been going wild. She wasn't used to fighting for such long periods of time, being a specialist in covert ops, and she hoped to disappear just as quickly to regain the upper hand.  
  
But he'd already seen her, and he gave her a wild, pointy-toothed grin. "I can smell your blood," he purred, focusing his attention on her as he leapt forward.  
  
Lane vanished from sight again, but it was difficult to stay a step ahead of the cat-like mutant when he could track her by scent alone. Her eyes scanned the room as she weaved around the other combatants, searching for Emery. She found her near the door, still trying to keep Exile from engaging with the other mutants.  
  
"Come on!" Lane shouted as she neared her friend, visible once more as she reached out to grab her arm and haul her away from Exile's oncoming fist.  
  
"We'll have to find another way out!" Emery shouted back as they both raced in the opposite direction.  
  
"You know one?!"  
  
 "I might! Follow me!"  
  
But they hadn't gotten far before Tora slid in front of them, a deadly glint in his eyes as he licked his lips. "Not so fast!" He snarled, claws out as he swiftly pounced for them.  
  
Acting on instinct, Emery shoved Lane out of the way. In the next moment she felt his claws rake across her back, shredding her white shirt and ripping into her flesh. Specks of blood spattered the floor before Lane realized what had just happened.  
  
"EMERY!" She cried out, though there was no time to react because Exile had begun to charge toward them with a giant fist pulled back. Lane didn't intend to yield. "Come on, you son of a bitch!"  
  
Emery blasted Tora backward and looked up in time to see Lane attempt a kick at Exile's enormous chest. He merely brushed it off as if he'd been struck by a foam bat, and then reached out to grab her around the neck.  
  
"Put her down!" Emery shouted, trying in vain to knock Exile off his feet with several bursts of energy. With her attention divided, Tora struck again, slashing her arm before she was able to roll away from him. "Shit!"  
  
Choking for air, Lane's fingers grappled at Exile's hand, struggling to break free. "N-no..."  
  
The massive mutant raised one knee to stomp a bare foot onto the tiled floor, cracking it as he created yet another one of his circular contortions. His intent was clear as he backed away just enough to fling Lane toward it.  
  
"LANE!" Abandoning her struggle against Tora, Emery dove for her friend as Lane reached out to her, managing to grab onto her hand as she hit the floor.  
  
The swirling vortex grew in circumference until it threatened to swallow Lane whole, pulling at her features and distorting her along with the floor that it had opened up onto. Emery struggled to pull her up, using both feet to brace herself, but the force of the vortex was too powerful and she found her grip quickly slipping.  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry!" Lane called out, clasping Emery's hand so tightly that the action caused her to fade in and out of visibility. "I'm sorry for everything!"  
  
Emery gritted her teeth. "Now's not really the ti—" Suddenly she was kicked from behind by Exile, and completely lost her footing. Helplessly, she found herself falling forward, eyes wide in horror. "NO!!"  
  
Instinctively, Lane wrapped both arms around Emery. "I'm _not_ leaving you again!" She shouted out as the both of them tumbled forth into a swirling, unfamiliar abyss.  
  
Everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! DUN DUN DUN, where oh were do you think they've gone? HMM. Tough one, eh?
> 
> At any rate, many thanks for giving this fic a read! See you next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the portal that Exile had created, the two mutant women felt the sensation of moving forward at an insane speed, still clutching each other tightly neither one of them able to speak. The feeling was not unlike being trapped on a giant waterslide, shades of black and gray pulsating around them. The air felt stuffy, stilted.

Lane gulped, her throat becoming dry as the feeling of vertigo began to overcome her. Their speed was increasing. She tumbled forward with Emery, spying the end of the tunnel, and they braced themselves for impact. Exile had sucked them into one of his portals, and they were about to discover exactly where that portal led.

From what they could tell, the area below looked to be a flat plain. Lane hoped it wasn't somewhere outside of the United States; she may have had many connections, but she didn't fancy calling in her favors from a foreign country.

The landing was much softer than expected. Their world was thrown into full tilt suddenly, colors swirling around them. They toppled over onto the ground, losing their grip on each other and rolling in opposite directions.

Lane disappeared upon contact with the ground, a defensive reflex she'd honed ever since her powers had manifested. Meanwhile, Emery rolled to a stop in the grassy plains. They'd anticipated the wind being knocked from their lungs on impact, but were slightly surprised when that hadn't happened.

Emery's instincts kicked in immediately and she pushed herself upright into a crouch, her ears picking up a cacophony somewhere behind them even before her brain could register anything else. The sounds of an obvious struggle. Clanging metal and shouting, and something that definitely didn't sound human...or mutant for that matter.

"Lane..." Emery's warning tone came barely above a whisper as she turned toward the noises. Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight before her and instantly she found herself taking a few steps backward, arms out at her sides in a defensive position.

Lane looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun, or at least what she had  _ thought _ was the sun...until it became closer and hotter and she had to roll out of the way to avoid being hit by it.

Shit! That wasn’t the sun! It was a strange entity of some sort, and clearly hostile. She immediately picked herself up, sending a wide roundhouse kick to the back of the sun-like entity’s head once it appeared behind her.

"EMERY! I'M OVER HERE!" She hissed as she pulled her leg back, her skin sizzling with a superficial burn.

Emery's eyes darted left and right, watching Lane reappear momentarily as she attempted to regroup. In this unfamiliar atmosphere, their only chance of survival depended on the two of them sticking together, fighting against these...creatures. They were brightly colored beings of the likes which neither of them had ever seen. Were they human? Mutant? Failed experiments, perhaps? There was no telling what they were since they had no idea where Exile had sent them.

Nearby, a group of oddly-dressed humans were engaging them in combat; a bearded man with twin daggers, a blond man wielding a staff, a dark-haired woman wearing a bandana, and a smaller white-haired man with a sword almost as large as he was. Emery's sensitive ears were catching bits of conversation; words like 'demons' and 'abominations.' Someone even mentioned lasagna, although she thought perhaps she misheard that one.

Who were they? More importantly,  _ where was this? _

There was no time to wonder, however, because in the next moment one of the creatures appeared before her, almost as though it had come up from the ground itself.

It lunged. Heat radiated from its blazing body, red-hot like a bonfire. Despite the temperature, she felt chilled to the bone. Her hands shot out immediately to blast it backward with a short burst of telekinesis as Lane reappeared at her back, the both of them crouching slightly in anticipation.

The creature who had been kicked by Lane regained its equilibrium and came ghosting toward them, propelled by its own flames, and it was about to descend upon the two mutants when a bolt of lightning ripped through the air and split its form in two.

Lane gaped. "What?!"

The group of humans had migrated closer during their brief distraction, and it was then that the women noticed that the blond man clearly wielded electricity, judging by the crackle of leftover static in his hands.

Emery and Lane spared each other a glance.  _ Superhumans. _ These people were surely fellow mutants. Whether or not they could trust the strangers remained to be seen, but as another walking inferno turned its attention upon them, they both realized that those matters were better left for  _ after _ their mutual foes had been taken care of.

Meanwhile, the blond man had noticed the flame creature attempting to attack the two unarmed women. He responded by assaulting it with another barrage of lighting as to dispose of it quicker. Distracted by his foe, he failed to notice when another appeared nearby.

It was about to strike him in close range when a dark-haired woman leapt behind it. She stabbed it in the eye with one of the daggers she wielded and a moment later its inhuman growls of pain split the air.

The woman smirked at the blond. " _ You're welcome _ , Anders." She then quirked an eyebrow, noting Emery and Lane. "Well, well. Either our enemies have grown in number, or you two chose a piss poor spot for a picnic." Her eyes moved toward another male companion, who had been busily slicing through the creatures left and right. "There he goes again, hogging all the fun. Don't go taking them all for yourself, Hawke!"

The man she'd called out to paused his assault on the walking furnaces to notice that his friends had their attention elsewhere for the moment, and he allowed his eyes to follow their gaze to a couple of unusually dressed young ladies.

A grin tugged at his lips.

"Looks like word got out about this little party!" He remarked as he turned his attention back to the fight, backflipping behind one of the monsters and chuckling heartily."If you want some more, Isabela, you'd better hurry it up before I finish this myself!"

The one apparently called Anders stood apart from the group as he hurled lightning bolts, mindful and slightly apprehensive of the newcomers who were doing their best to fend off the enemies; one of them could only be seen about half of the time, but he figured by the way the visible one stood, they were fighting back to back.

He glanced over to make eye contact with Hawke, making sure the other man had seen them too. Hawke didn't seem worried, so Anders turned his full attention back to the fight. There was a loud crackle and two more fell after being struck by his lightning.

Lane shook her head, using the blunt end of her boot to keep the creatures at bay. "Holy shit, I do not want to get involved with these people, Emery," she muttered over her shoulder, gesturing toward the one called Anders amidst the chaos. "That one could kill us in seconds! Where the hell do you think we are?" She threw flurries of fast kicks to what she could only guess were their enemies' faces, knocking them off guard and then sending them falling back with a roundhouse kick. She'd learned not to touch them with her bare skin; the burn on her calf from earlier served as a reminder.

"I don't know," Emery replied, increasing the force of her telekinesis. She, too, had learned how ineffective physical combat was against the flaming monstrosities. She gritted her teeth as they manage to push the seemingly mindless enemies back. "We could be anywhere..."

A white-haired man appeared just then, swinging a mighty blade straight across the bodies of the ones Emery had sent reeling backward. They'd barely hit the ground in pieces before the man went after the remaining ones. As the battle began to wind down, more of the creatures fell until his blade was finally buried in the last remaining rage-filled monster.

As it crumbled to the ground, he yanked the blade out and cast a wary glance toward the newcomers. He had seen them appear out of nowhere with his own eyes...he'd seen them fall from the sky. Who could trust such people?

All was quiet for a moment as the band of warriors sheathed their weapons. Hawke wiped a smear of blood from his forehead, only succeeding in streaking it further down his face. He then returned his attention to the strangers behind him, although Anders was the first to speak to them.

"Excuse me," the blond began as he slowly approached them, "are you...?" He immediately slowed his pace when he saw them flinch, still in their battle stances. He could sense their tension; in fact, it was nearly palpable. He began again, "Look, I'll only hurt you if you hurt me first..."

Lane glared back, a hiss breaking through her teeth. Her body flashed from visible to invisible a few times, feeling Emery move closer until their backs were touching.

Emery's arms tensed up and she spread them out at her sides defensively. Her sharp gaze never left Anders as the blond inched closer.  "Who  _ are _ you...?"

Upon Anders's hesitation, Lane reached into her pocket to pull out her badge, muttering to Emery, "Did you hear his accent? I think we must be in Britain or something, DAMN." She shook her head and took a few steps forward, her badge falling open in her grasp as she held it up so that he could see it clearly. "Lane Ramsey. Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.  I'm going to need you to answer her question. NOW."

Anders cocked his head slightly, puzzling over the order. "Stragetic...what? Look, if you're apostates then don't worry, you're among friends." He slowly bent to place his staff on the ground in a gesture of peace, holding his hands up in a submissive manner. "My name is Anders..."

Lane gave him an odd look. "Apost... _ what? _ No! Isn't it obvious what we are?"

"Yes, APOSTATES. Like me," he replied simply, though upon second thought he added, "Unless...you've just come from the Circle. But that's impossible...you just..." He held his hands together and then quickly broke them apart, "appeared!"

Emery squinted in confusion. She didn't really like where this was going. Apostate? The Circle?? Both of those things were completely unfamiliar. Neither of them had any idea what he going on about.  _ Where the hell had they ended up? _ Her mind was swimming, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood pooling above her upper lip as her head throbbed.

Lane’s mouth hung slightly ajar, and she was about to ask Anders what the hell he was talking about when she happened to glance over and take note of the red staining Emery’s ripped white shirt.

"You're hurt," she fretted as she rushed back to Emery's side. "Have your abilities...? I mean, can you still...??"

Emery blinked and then nodded somewhat numbly. Her voice didn't sound nearly as confident as it would have all those years ago as she replied, "Yeah, I'm...fine."

Lane turned back to face the group. "Hey, 'Anders', was it?  Do you have some water or something?"

"Of course." Anders cautiously walked toward them, offering Lane his water skin.

When Lane took it and held it out for Emery to take, the other mutant gave the leather pouch a look as though it might bite her if she reached for it.

"It's okay...it's just water," Lane prompted. She set the skin in Emery's hands and then turned to look Anders in the eyes. "Back off, will you? She's been through a lot! Not that I'm not grateful that you aren't trying to kill us right now, but you have no idea where we just came from." She herded him a few feet backwards, eyeing him warily. "You called yourself an ‘apostate’. And you clearly have powers. Are you all mutants?”

Hawke scoffed, returning to the group as he slid something into his back pocket. " _ Mutants?! _ Well, that's an awfully impolite thing to call a gallant group of heroes who just saved your hides," he scoffed, although his tone of voice didn't suggest that he was angry at all.

Lane’s gaze shifted to Hawke. "Look, I'm going to need your full cooperation, Mister...?"

"Oh! This is the part where I get to introduce myself, isn't it?" He gave her a roguish grin and thrust one dirtied hand forward. "My name is Hawke, dear lady. Garrett Hawke."

Lane smacked his hand aside. "It wasn't for pleasantries that I asked you, it has to go in my report. Plus I don't really want to refer to you as 'hey you' for the duration of our interaction."

Hawke stared for a moment at the hand she'd smacked away and then shrugged as the rest of his companions looked on. "Very well then, mean lady, have it your way. What can I do for you?"

She wasted no time rattling off several questions in rapid succession. "Who are you? Who is he? Who are they?” Lane gestured toward the rest of the group behind him. “What were those…those  _ things? _ What's an apostate? And  _ where the HELL _ are we?!"

Hawke dug a finger in his ear, his face scrunching in confusion. "Hm? Damn, you must have hit your head awfully hard when you fell! This is KIRKWALL, of course." He gestured exaggeratedly toward their surroundings. "And you ought to know what an apostate is, considering you are most  _ certainly _ one of them."

Lane's eye twitched in anger. "How dare you call us that! I don’t even know what that means! Mutants...we're MUTANTS!" She threw her hands up in frustration, gesturing toward Anders. "You, man in the dress! Come over here!"

"They're ROBES," Anders corrected her.

"Okay ANDERS, just tell me what the hell an apostate is!"

"It would help if you'd stop saying my name as if it were a curse word," he replied dryly, although the look she gave him was fairly withering and he sighed. "Apostates are mages who are not bound by the Circle. We are 'free'... Well, free as an apostate could possibly be, anyway," he added bitterly.

There was a long pause as the SHIELD agent absorbed his claims. Mages…? Her eyes widened momentarily. Where had Exile sent them, exactly? Into the future? The past? Or…somewhere else entirely? She was beginning to feel a bit overwhelmed. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and she was utterly  _ exhausted _ . Both mentally and physically. All she had wanted to do was rescue Emery from that horrifying prison and then make it home in one piece…

She sighed, wanting desperately to believe that this was all just some kind of bizarre cult they had unwittingly stumbled into. "Please tell me that ‘mage’ is just another word for ‘mutant’ here..."

The shorter man with the white hair and enormous sword spoke up just then. "Hawke, leave them. Clearly they are out of their minds and we had best not interfere," he said as he hefted the blade onto his back, signaling his readiness to head home and be done with the matter.

Hawke frowned at that. "But Fenris, look, that one isn't wearing anything but her smallclothes," he said as he looked pointedly at Lane's two-piece suit. "And her friend there looks as if she could stand to eat a few dozen brontoburgers. Hardly seems dangerous to me."

Emery caught his eye at that remark and her expression became a glare, her hand still clutching the now-empty water skin at her side.

Lane’s posture became defensive as she retorted, “Are you going to just stand there and insult us, or is someone actually going to answer my damn questions? Where are we  _ really?” _

Hawke exchanged glances with Fenris, looking somewhat helpless. He thought that perhaps Fenris was right to be wary of the strangers, but on the other hand, he couldn't possibly just  _ walk away _ . Not when the two women appeared to be so confused...if he just turned his back and left, he knew there was a good chance that they would be killed. He wasn't sure that he could forgive himself if something like that happened. They didn't seem like a couple of murderers...a bit crazy, surely, but he knew the difference between a vicious attack dog and a scared puppy backed into a corner.

He sighed, his hands settling at his hips as he cleared his throat to speak. "Listen, I don't know where you two came from or who you are, and we aren't exactly in the business of placing blind trust in barking mad strangers...cute as they may be," he added, offering a wink at that, though his cheekiness was only met with revulsion from the short-haired woman. He shrugged and continued, "However, I'm also not in the business of lying to people I've no reason to lie to. You, my dears, are in  _ Kirkwall _ . You know, in the Free Marches? Ring any bells? Anyway, I shall graciously offer to escort you both back to the city, but nothing more. At least there you won't be walking targets for more demon attacks."

Emery's eyebrows arched at his choice of wording, as did Lane's. "Demon?"

Isabela snorted. "Well, yes, what would  _ you _ call those flaming, soulless gits we just cut up?"

Lane studied Hawke with a critical eye, trying to decide what she made of their claims. Isabela had a point; those creatures had appeared to be neither human  _ nor  _ mutant. She decided that Hawke was probably telling the truth about taking them to the city of Kirkwall, though the fact that she’d never heard of such a place—or anything called the ‘Free Marches’ for that matter—was rather troubling.

She heaved a sigh, seeing no other option. "I suppose we'll go with you, then,” she relented, trading uncertain glances with Emery.

Fenris sighed and shook his head, unwilling to continue to stand around and listen to their odd conversation. "Do what you will, Hawke. I am heading back." He turned on his heel, not waiting for goodbyes before walking away from the group, heading in the direction that Hawke had pointed out earlier.

Lane crinkled her nose as she watched him saunter off. “What’s Whitey’s problem?”

At that moment, Anders noticed the louder mutant's burned leg. "You're hurt. Here...I can help you." Before Lane could reject him, he had reached for her quickly and palmed her calf. A strange blue glow flowed from his hand and over her leg, dissipating as her flesh began to knit itself back together.

Shocked, Lane's mouth opened to protest, but by the time she could find the words, she was already healed. "What did...you…? You...” She looked away and mumbled a 'thank you,' still not entirely convinced that she could trust him.

Anders gave her a small smile before he stepped toward Emery, speaking softly as if he were afraid to spook her. "Are you burned as well? I could help, if you don't mind..." He was looking at her with such kindness in his eyes that she faltered, remaining rooted to the spot. Even so, she was in no need of any assistance.

Emery shook her head. "No. I'm fine," she said for what seemed like the eightieth time that day. She took a cautious step backward, carefully holding out the empty water skin for him to take back, never taking her eyes off him as he carefully stepped forward.

He reached out slowly and took it gently. "My name is Anders. It's okay, you don't have to hide anymore. If you two are apostates, know that we won't turn you in. I would never betray my own kind."

Emery's brow furrowed. She'd been trying to read Anders since he'd first approached them. Something felt a bit off about him and she couldn't figure out just what it was. On the surface, he seemed perfectly decent...but something stirred deep below his kind eyes and gentle words. She had felt hints of it while he'd been engaged in battle, and again just a few moments ago while he was healing Lane's wound. It didn't tell her much, but it told her enough; that she shouldn't be too quick to trust him, because he wasn't all that he seemed. After all those years locked up in the facility, Emery had developed a sort of sixth sense; and at the moment, that sense was being absolutely  _ bombarded _ .

It wasn't just Anders, she realized. It was the whole place. Everything about it screamed, "be wary." She could feel in the air, even...the atmosphere there was quite different than the one back home.

After a pause, her words finally came, and they felt forced. "I don't even know what your kind  _ is _ ."

Anders opened his mouth to speak again when he noticed something odd; her wounds...they had been shrinking right before his eyes. It had been happening so gradually that he hadn’t noticed right away. The burns she'd sustained during battle were vanishing just as if they had never been there at all. He sucked in a breath, wondering if she were a healer as he was.

He repeated her last words. "My kind? Well, of course I speak of mages." He nodded matter-of-factly, giving her a live demonstration as he created a small, bright ball of fire in his hand. "Those of us who possess magical abilities...those of us who are feared and hated..." His eyes darkened slightly, accentuated by the flicker of the fire dancing in his palm. "Hunted and chained..."

Emery's eyes remained trained on the small flame, her eyebrows lifting in interest for a moment, though furrowing a bit upon hearing the rest of his explanation.

Feared. Hated. Hunted. Chained...

She suppressed a cringe at those words; familiar concepts that every mutant could relate to. Some more than others. She clenched her fists in an attempt to quell the trembling in her limbs and did her best to shove those unpleasant thoughts toward the very back of her mind.

Lane's voice jarred her from her thoughts as the other mutant came closer, muttering under her breath and clearly experiencing a fair amount of denial over their current situation. "Maybe  _ they’re  _ the ones who are confused. Maybe someone in the city would happen to have a cell phone I can borrow... My superiors are probably having a cow about not hearing from me. I have no idea how long we were gone before we ended up here…"

"Sell...what?" Hawke quirked an eyebrow, having overheard her. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and shook his head. "Also, I hardly think it's even possible for a human to give birth to a cow. Just saying."

"CELL PHONE!" Lane exploded at him, her frustration at peak levels. "HELL,  _ ANY _ PHONE! Even a Nokia would do at this point!"

“Hm?” Hawke quirked an eyebrow, glancing at his other two comrades for help. "Any idea of what she's going on about? What's a 'nokia?' Is it a spell of some sort?"

Isabela sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think you had it right when you said she was barking mad, love."

Lane flared up again at those words. “Excuse me?!!”

Emery shook her head at that, speaking up suddenly, "It doesn't matter, let it go. We need to focus on figuring out where the hell we are. It doesn’t really matter what they think."

Lane met her eyes, her expression softening as she nodded her assent. "Alright."

Hawke held up his hands. "If everyone is ready to behave themselves, I think it's about time we got going."

When nobody objected, he began to lead them down the grassy knoll and toward the city in the same route that Fenris had taken a few minutes ago. He was beginning to wonder if Fenris had the right idea after all, although he figured he could always dump them off at the tavern once they'd arrived. They would be someone else's problem, then.

Lane continued to needle them with questions as they made the trek. "Is this your only form of transportation? Do you guys fight those things for fun or something? Were you attacked while hiking? By the way, that's hardly appropriate gear to go hiking in—he's wearing a fucking dress for God's sake!"

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. " _ Robes _ ."

When Lane received no answer, she picked up her pace, following at Hawke's heels. "HEY, HAWKE! I know you heard me, you motherfucker!"

The man grimaced. "What is it about me that gives you reason to believe that I have relations with my mother?"

She caught up quickly, falling into step beside him. "Please tell me you at least have  _ electricity _ in Kirkwall."

Hawke continued to look straight ahead, picking up a stick in his path and rapping it on some boulders as they passed by. "Electricity, you say? What would you need that for?"

Lane looked at him as if he'd just grown a second head. "Only EVERYTHING." She sighed in dismay. "Damn, if only I hadn't dropped my communicator, FUCK." She kicked at the dirt as she walked, nearly tripping when a large clod came loose. "So we're really doing this, huh? Hiking in dresses and armor."

Emery chewed on her lip as they moved onward, feeling progressively more overwhelmed as everyone continued to talk about unfamiliar things. They were nowhere near home. Probably not even on Earth anymore, she surmised—at least not the Earth that she and Lane knew. It was neither impossible nor unheard of for people of her world to stumble into other dimensions. It didn’t happen often, of course, but often enough that the existence of other realms had become an accepted fact among her peers. Still, she felt a bit in shock. She would never have guessed Exile’s ability could be  _ that  _ powerful…

She was so deeply involved in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear Anders speak from a few paces behind her, and the sound of his voice brought her back to reality.

"Your friend there, she seems to be wound a bit tight," had been his remark.

Lane, wound a bit tight? Emery supposed that Lane's behavior was only natural for someone in their current situation, although Lane had never been the type for quiet speculation. She hugged her arms as they descended a small slope, still guarded, still not willing to trust them. And if they had any sense at all, they wouldn't be so trusting of her and Lane, either.

She sighed, not feeling in much of a mood for conversation. "Shouldn't she be? How are we supposed to feel right now?"

Anders paused. "I...honestly don't know. But...whatever it is I can do to help you, I will do it. Perhaps you aren't sure if you should trust me? I know how hard it is to tell who is worthy of it in this city, but if it helps, my full trust and loyalty lies with Hawke. You'll not find a better man around. He’s my closest friend." He beamed at that, clearly proud to know such a person. "He might not seem like much at first, but if you stick around long enough, you'll see what I mean."

Emery merely hummed in response, distracted by all the sights, smells and sounds invading her senses. How many times had she sat in that cell and dreamed of being outdoors once again? The crisp air, though unfamiliar, was a welcome scent, although the bright light all around them made her feel uneasy, exposed...

Anders frowned, noting her tension and he changed the subject to something he'd been wanting to ask since the moment he'd noticed her. "You... Wherever you have come from, it wasn't safe, was it...?"

Emery let that question hover in the air for a moment, trying to decide if she even wanted to answer it. Finally, she cast him a haunting glance, replying in a tone that signaled the end of that conversation. “No, it wasn’t.”

With that, she turned back to the road ahead and picked up her pace, closing the distance between herself and the only other person she knew for sure that she could trust in this strange and likely dangerous new place.

Anders slowed in his footsteps, falling a little behind as he turns her words over in his head. He knew that brand of pain all too well. Knew exactly what it was like to be in constant fear and terror, never knowing which day or moment would be the last...the very real threats that he experienced as a mage were always hovering in the distant future, taunting him, daring him to escape from them.

He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, hating the fact that he'd found more people who seemed to have been abused by an oppressive society, no matter where that society happened to be. Curiosity burned in his mind and he wished he could ask her more about where she had come from, though she had made it clear that she didn't wish to talk.

Her friend, on the other hand...

"HAWKE! Are you even listening to me, Hawke?! It's my job to get information, you know, and the least you could do is comply!"

"Is it, now? I thought your job had to do with that shield thing. And speaking of which, it doesn't look like you could defend against a  _ hornet _ with that adorable little thing you call a _ 'shield' _ ."

Lane glared back. "That's just my badge! I told you already, I'm with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.  _ SHIELD! _ I get that you have no idea what that is, but while we’re traipsing about the fucking mountainside, people are getting hurt back in our home land! I'm trying to fix that, but I can't if you won't help me!"

Isabela growled, her long hair whipping around as she shot Lane a dirty look. "Oh, DO SHUT IT!! Some of us tire of your screeching banshee voice."

There was a brief silence and Hawke heaved a sigh. "Maker, I could sure go for a stiff drink. Or twelve." The group continued to head down the mountain and he was rather pleased when the silence stretched on for several long minutes. Finally he spied the city limits up ahead and visible relief graced his features. "Not too much longer now..."

"We've been walking for a while now," Lane piped up again as Hawke led them onto a worn path that would take them directly to the city. "You're really hardcore, aren't you Hawke? This 'big, bad armored man fighting in the woods' thing you’re doing."

"Said the apostate wearing hardly anything, let alone armor," Hawke remarked.

"We're NOT apostates!!"

Anders reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Even if you say you aren’t apostates, with the abilities you possess you would surely be labeled as such. Be cautious..."

Lane brushed his hand off her shoulder, eyeing him critically, although for all she knew he could be right. She sighed, "Well, at any rate, I can't say you look terrible in a dress."

“Oh, Maker’s arse…”

Emery looked up, studying the outline of the city in the distance. With her enhanced eyesight, she could just barely make out smaller details of Kirkwall. Flags, buildings, a shipyard and...something else. Something that sent a wave of unease washing over her body. If her eyes were seeing it correctly--and there was very little doubt that they were--the entrance of the city was filled with all sorts  of horrible statues. Beings arranged in grotesque, ghastly postures...a tormented, anguished feeling coming from them.

Suddenly, she didn't like where they were going at all.

"Lane."

The urgency in her best friend's voice grabbed Lane's attention immediately and she turned toward Emery. "What it is?" She squinted into the distance, trying to see whatever it was that had caused Emery to become so tense, though she was unable pick out anything that seemed at all significant.

Emery slowed to a stop, finally forcing herself to look away from the statues to answer Lane, but Hawke spoke first.

"What is it? Something wrong?" He had noticed them stop from the corner of his eye, and looked back at them with one raised eyebrow.

Emery gave him a suspicious look. "How about explaining why you have tortured statues decorating your city?!" She demanded, slight panic rising in her chest. "Where exactly are you taking us?" She shook her head slightly, taking a step back and reaching out to clutch Lane's wrist for support.

"What?" Lane put a protective arm around her, her eyes moving from Emery to Hawke before fixing on the man before her. She gritted her teeth, suddenly feeling uneasy herself. "Yes...do tell."

Hawke's eyebrows jumped up a bit, and he turned to squint toward the city. A moment later, he looked back at Emery in surprise. "You can see all that from here??" When they didn't respond, continuing to look at him as if he were leading them into a death trap, he sighed and scratched his head. "It's not what you think. Kirkwall does have a bit of a...history...to it. A lot of bad shit went on here, true...but that was over a thousand years ago. Now, mind you, even today it still isn't all roses and sunshine, but it isn't the city of slavery that it once was." He shrugged with an air of nonchalance. "Though I do wish someone would get rid of those unsightly things."

"Slavery...?" Lane gaped back at him. "Is this place even SAFE?"

Emery was already shaking her head. "No. I'm not setting foot in there. We need to go somewhere else."

"I honestly can't say I blame her," Anders admitted. "You're the only reason I go back there at all, Hawke. You and my fellow mages, anyway. The  _ smell alone _ is enough to send most people packing." He turned to give the two women an earnest look. "I wouldn't recommend staying out here, though...those demons from before, there'll be more. More than two people alone could handle, I can guarantee that. Kirkwall may not have the proudest history, nor the most aesthetically pleasing decor, but it  _ is _ safer there."

Lane looked at Emery, gripping her shoulders in reassurance. "It's the only chance we've got. I hate having to trust them...but we need to find shelter to rest up and figure out how the hell we’re getting out of here."

Emery had to admit that she couldn't think of any better alternatives herself. She knew that Anders was telling the truth about those demons. Hell, she and Lane wouldn't have come out so lucky in the battle back there if it hadn't been for Hawke and his friends, as much as she hated to think of it.

Reluctantly, she met Lane's eyes and gave a short nod. "Fine..." She didn't like it. She'd have to constantly be on her guard there. With any luck, their stay would be short-lived once they were able to obtain more information on where this place was in relation to their own homeland and how they might go about getting back there.  _ If  _ they could go back at all…

Lane nodded back, hoping that they weren't about to make a huge mistake. There was something off about the place. Like Emery, she too could feel it in the air. It smelled different. Cleaner, somehow, although that thought did not comfort her the way she might have thought it would. Her mind retrieved images of the so-called 'demons' from earlier and she shuddered at the memory.

Some nagging feeling in the back of her mind warned her that those creatures were most likely not the worst thing lurking around in the strange land they'd found themselves thrown into.

Indeed, it appeared they had jumped right out of the frying pan and into the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We're getting into the good bits now. Boy do we love Purple Hawke. Once again, thanks for reading and see you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read Chapter 2 before 3/10/17, then you might want to give it another glance before reading this one; some things have been revised. Nothing terribly story-altering, but there may be some confusion otherwise.

 

Sorrow.

Suffering.

Death.

As they entered the area that Hawke had called the 'Gallows,' those were the words at the forefront of Emery's mind. If walking through it had seemed like a bad dream from afar, it was surely more of a nightmare up close.

The fortress she had seen from the distance only grew more and more ominous the closer they came. It seemed something separate from the rest of the city, its shadow looming over them as they passed, and she noted several heavily-armored men strolling about its perimeter. Anders told them it was the 'Circle' and had muttered a few other choice words under his breath. While she had no idea what he meant by that, she could certainly agree that it seemed more like a prison than anything else. The statues that had brought her unease were mounted on the walls and pillars in grotesque, anguished poses and she averted her eyes, treating them as if they were cursed. If she listened hard enough, she swore that she could still hear the leftover screams of thousand-year-old corpses.

Terrible things had happened here. She didn't need Hawke to tell her that.  She could almost still smell the pungent aroma of iron and decay in the air. It was permeating every crack in the stone floor, stifling the air around them. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her throat go dry. As she watched heavily armored men stroll about the perimeter, occasionally stopping to speak with a civilian, she had to wonder who in their right mind would willingly spend time down here.

Even Lane had to stop talking as they hurried through, noticing Emery's discomfort and putting a protective arm around her shoulders. The city of Kirkwall was certainly not what she'd expected it to be. Stone streets, embroidered flags, symbols she didn't recognize. The people were different as well, dressed similarly to Hawke and his companions.

She’d been clutching tightly to that one little shred of hope that perhaps they _weren’t_ worlds away from their homeland, silly as it may have been. After all, Lane had been many places and heard many stories during her time as a spy—tales of cultures hidden away in remote corners of the planet, refusing to adopt modern ways and remaining undisturbed by the rest of the world. But seeing the city of Kirkwall up close, with her own eyes, forced her to face the most likely possibility: that they had been sent to another dimension entirely.

Another dimension…? In all her years, she’d only ever lived in one of them. SHIELD had records of very many, of course, but Lane had only been privy to so much information. She faltered a bit in her footsteps, having been craning her neck while her eyes traveled up the height of the so-called ‘Circle’ behind them.

It felt a little bit like she was walking around in some bizarre dream that she couldn’t wake herself from. So much had happened already. Were they really going to be stuck here?

Finally, they left the Gallows behind, ascending a set of stairs and passing through a stone archway. Emery found herself letting out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in as Hawke announced that this part of the city was called 'Lowtown.' One look around and they could easily guess why; the houses were shabby at best and the people were dirty, dressed in tattered trousers and ragged tunics. Isabela made a comment about low class thugs preferring to hang about the area. Comparing it to back home, the two mutants figured it was the ghetto part of Kirkwall. They kept their heads down, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves.

After a few minutes of walking along the slummy streets, Lane spoke up again.

"Hawke..." She pulled on his arm. "Something's off about this place. Are you sure it’s okay here? This better not be some kind of elaborate set-up," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Did you lie to us?! Where the hell are you taking us?!" When he didn't answer her immediately, the volume of her voice rose considerably. "Answer me, damn it!!"

Hawke flinched at the sound and dug at his left ear. "What did you say? I'm afraid I've suddenly gone deaf." He sighed in aggravation. "Woman, I’ve already told you I would escort you into the city. Call it my good deed for the day. We’re headed for the tavern. Whatever you do from there is up to you, I don’t give a rat’s arse. There are plenty of other places in Kirkwall you might prefer to slither off to!"

Lane lost her temper just then, growling back before she gestured wildly at their surroundings. "Oh yes, WONDERFUL, GLORIOUS _KIRKWALL!_ Where there's not even a fucking STARBUCKS!” She dropped her tone, muttering to Emery, “This place is a DUMP! I mean, it’s like we’re in some kind of Renaissance Festival gone wrong!"

Isabela rolled her brown eyes and glanced at the rest of the group. “COME ON you lot, let's just see if Varric knows what to do about this."

Hawke raised an eyebrow as Isabela began to lead the two strangers toward the tavern they'd been walking up to. Suddenly a grin broke over his face and he waved at Isabela in a decidedly mocking manner.

"Thanks, Izzy! I'll catch you dolls later, then!"

The last thing Isabela saw was his cheeky grin and then he was gone very suddenly.

Emery blinked at the spot where Hawke had stood just moments ago. "He moves fast..."

"HAWKE, YOU BASTARD! DON'T LEAVE ME WITH _HER!"_ Isabela shouted in his wake, cursing herself for having gone ahead of him. “Blight take him, that’s what I get for standing up for that pain in the arse! Ugh, come on, you two. The tavern is just next door. Let's get this over with."

Lane rolled her eyes. "Oh, yippee, I've always wanted to try Mead."

By that point, many people passing by had stopped to crane their necks and stare, having no doubt picked up on Lane's foreign tendencies. She had never quite been able to control the things that came out of her mouth, which often got her into trouble.

Anders stepped closer to her, speaking a bit lower. "You're drawing quite a bit of attention to yourself, and you _already_ look out of place. Just saying."

Emery stared at the door of the tavern, distracted by the sounds of muffled music from within. A lute, perhaps. It was accompanied by clapping and laughter and the occasional jeer. The smell of alcohol filled her nose and she breathed it in, finding a small amount of comfort in some familiarity for the first time that day.

She was at a loss as to what they should do. Hawke obviously wanted nothing more to do with the two of them, although she could hardly blame him for that. Lane could be a little intense, and tended to wear every emotion on her sleeve. Besides that, they weren't really his problem to begin with, and he was certainly under no obligation to help them. He and his friends could have just left them. Perhaps they should take what little advice he had dispensed and check out the tavern after all.

Emery reached out to touch her friend's arm. "Let's just go in and see what we see."

Lane relented, though not without voicing her opinion on the tavern's decor; the stuffed figure hanging from the roof didn't exactly help the overall sketch factor, and as Anders ushered them inside, they quickly discovered that the mascot was the very least of the building's problems.

It was a large room, its walls dirtied and drawn on and covered up here and there with a ragged tapestry. Small flames flickered from hanging lanterns, casting sharp shadows about the room and accentuating its homely appearance. Tables were haphazardly set up, spaced unevenly from one another and looking as if one swift kick would send them toppling over. The bar itself was a simple structure with a few wooden slabs overhead which held barrels of ale.

Perhaps most alarming of all was the number of bloodstains spattered on the floor in various places, scuffed into the loose wooden boards as if nobody had ever bothered to clean it up.

Lane immediately paused, shock setting in as she observed the scenery, her features morphing into a look of disgust. "My God, this place is filthy!!" This outburst attracted several stares from the patrons seated at worn tables closest to the group.

"Just _shut_ it." Isabela herded Lane toward her usual table and pushed her into a seat. She made eye contact with the bartender and held up four fingers.

Anders did not sit. "I'm going see if Varric is around," he said as he walked past the table toward a set of stairs at the back of the room.

Feeling the stares settle on her bare back from all around the room, Emery suddenly became very aware of the large tears in her clothing from the fight with Tora earlier. She shifted uncomfortably, watching the nonverbal communication between Isabela and the bartender.

Turning back to the table, Isabela continued to fume, "I'm going to kill Hawke next I see him...leaving me with this stark raving lunatic! At least _you_ seem nice," she said, directly her attentions toward Emery. It was then that she, too, noticed the mutant was receiving some unwanted attention. "Oh, that's right, your shirt... Tell you what, I have some extra clothes you can borrow." She rose from the table and gestured for Emery to follow along. "Come with me, sweetness. I've got a room in the back. And don't let any of them bother you, these guys are really just a harmless bunch of drunken louts. …Mostly."

Emery hesitated for a moment, exchanging looks with Lane, not entirely keen on being separated from the only person she trusted. But Lane gave her an encouraging nod, and Emery shrugged one shoulder. "Alright."

Lane watched them head toward the back rooms, gulping down her mug of ale as soon as the waitress set it down. When she finished hers, she reached for Isabela's.

 

oOo

 

Anders strode down the wobbly floorboards in the hall, taking a right and stopping at the first door. He raised a fist to knock several times.

"Varric!" He sighed to himself, muttering, "Please be in there, we have a situation..."

A moment later, much to his relief, the weathered wooden door swung open. Anders looked down to see the dwarven man appear before him, raising one eyebrow.

"What's wrong, Blondie? Wait, don't tell me...Hawke got himself caught in a bear trap again."

A chuckle escaped Ander's mouth at the memory. "No, no, nothing like that. Actually, we've got some visitors...quite unlike any we've had before. It's a little strange. We're having some trouble communicating. And..." He lowered his voice, "I suspect that they are apostates. I want to help them, but they're being incredibly difficult." He tilted his head and offered Varric a small smile. "So...being the well-spoken, magnetic man of charm that you are, I was wondering if you might try talking to them. Maybe you could provide them with the answers they need."

The other man's eyebrows raised as he took in this new information. "Well...you sure know how to ask a favor, Blondie!" He chuckled. "Alright, you've piqued my interest."

Anders let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Hawke left the rest of us in his literal _dust_ the moment we arrived here, and it didn't seem right to just cast them aside. One of them is particularly...irate. Her name is Lane. Just, whatever you do, don't mention anything about apostates. She seems to take great offense to it," he added with a slight roll of the eyes.

Varric shrugged. "Alright. Let's go and meet them, the suspense is killing me already!"

He stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him, not entirely sure of what to expect; Anders was always trying to take fellow apostates under his wing and help them out, that was certainly not uncommon, and Varric quite often ended up being roped in to help. Each situation was different, though, and some of the apostates ended up being...interesting characters to say the least. Blight take that damned puppy-dog look that Anders had managed to perfect over the last couple of years since Varric had come to know him.

Varric followed Anders out to the main hall of the tavern and over to the table where Lane still sat, noting her attire immediately. Definitely not a native of Kirkwall, he thought. Perhaps not even of Thedas. He couldn't think of a culture known for dressing themselves in what he would call glorified smallclothes.

He approached her carefully, waiting until she noticed him before he gave her a polite nod and seated himself at the table across from her. "You must be Lane."

The mutant woman, having calmed down considerably after downing two glasses of ale, leaned forward in her chair and smirked at the dwarf. "My reputation precedes me! And who are you, Shorty?"

Varric chuckled in response. "Yes, yes, if I had a silver for every time I heard that one, I'd have enough to buy this tavern and five others. Actually, I'm better known in these parts as Varric. Varric Tethras. I'm told that you and your friend are in a bit of trouble?"

Lane squinted back at him. "Yes, I'm afraid we're lost at the moment and looking for a way to orient ourselves. This is Kirkwall, right? That's what Hawke told me. What's the main trade here?"

The dwarf sat back and regarded her with a look, taking in her strange attire and odd accent. "Well, Kirkwall is kind of a melting pot of assorted commerce. Became infamous as the heart of slave trade back in the day. I'm sure you noticed the foreboding statues on the way in—hard not to, really. Nothing says ‘welcome’ like a tortured, writhing sculpture. Don’t let that put you off, though. These days, Kirkwall is kind of like a nexus of trade between the Free Marches and Ferelden. But," he continued, leaning forward a bit, "I get the feeling you didn't come here to talk business."

She smirked, hoping it hid her confusion regarding the other names of what she assumed were places in his response. "Not exactly, no. I...I mean _we_ , my friend Emery and I, we're a long way from home and running short on friends and supplies. Think you might be able to help with either of those things?"

"Supplies? Sure. I could point you to a few buddies of mine, even get 'em to throw in a discount for you. As for friends..." Varric studied her face, brown eyes locking onto blue, though she gave no real indication of her intentions. He tilted his head slightly. "Where exactly _are_ you from? Maybe I know the place."

"I'd be surprised if you did. It's pretty far away from here. _So_ far that it feels like a whole other world sometimes. We need a place to stay for a while. Is the rest of this place as charming as the bar?" Lane smiled at him; it had been a while since she'd had a decent conversation with someone. Work was all business exchanges of information, and always speaking with superiors. What little spare time she had gotten had been spent looking for her friend or grabbing a precious few hours of sleep.

Varric chuckled. "Oh, absolutely. If you consider oppression and political unrest to be your definition of 'charming'. Me, I prefer the tavern. Might smell like piss and vomit, but at least the beverages are nice and the drunks are entertaining. Some of my best stories were inspired by drunken arguments," he added with a wink. "Speaking of stories...if you don't mind me asking, what's yours? I've been a lot of places, but I've never heard an accent like yours."

"Heh, well, have you ever heard of a city called New York? That's where I'm from. And my accent is pretty regional, so I'm told." Lane reached for her mug of ale, but found it was empty so she raised her hand for two more. "This round's on me, Shorty."

"Ha! If you think buying me ale is going to get me into your good graces, then...well, you're right, it couldn't hurt," the dwarf joked. Varric always did have a talent for lightening the mood and breaking up the tension in a room. "Anyway, I can't say I've ever heard of a city by that name. I _can_ say for certain that there's no place called 'New York' anywhere near here. Or 'Old York' for that matter," he added with a snort.

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the waitress as she approached them with two new mugs of ale. She set the drinks down in front of them and then quickly gathered up the empty mugs, wordlessly whisking them off to the counter to be cleaned.

Varric allowed the silence to stretch on a moment longer as he reached for his mug, taking a long sip as he idly listened to the banter from every corner of the tavern. Nights like this one tended to bring in the most interesting characters...proof of that was sitting right in front of him. 

It was at that point that the mage stood up, excusing himself from the table and muttering something about going to check on Isabela, though it was fairly obvious that he really just wanted to escape the awkward atmosphere and let Varric work his own particular brand of magic.

Varric watched Anders retreat toward the back. He then set his mug down, watching while Lane took a prolonged sip from her own. "Well...maybe you could tell me which nation you come from. That'll give me a better idea of how to help you."

Lane schooled her features behind the mug, having a perfect poker face on when she set it back down. This was a question she wasn't prepared to answer in the least. She needed to delay him, or see if she could turn it around on him. Best not to show too many cards so early on.

"Mm, it's pretty far from here, a lot more than a hop, skip and a jump, I'm afraid. The same could be said of you, I guess." she picked up her mug again, taking another long drink.

"Me?" He let out a short laugh. "Oh, I can see why you might think so. And if I'd ever called Orzammar my home, then you'd be right. But, as it happens, I've lived right here in Kirkwall all my life. Ah, we're getting off-track here. Listen, I'd like to be of assistance. Really. But if all you're going to do is dodge the question, then there's only so much assistance I can offer. Now, I've seen my fair share of miscreants and vagabonds. I've learned to tell the difference between someone who spins a story for their own personal gain and someone who's just trying to protect herself. You don't strike me as the former sort. So, my question is," he said, setting his elbows on the table and peering up at her, "what are you running from?"

The mutant woman's brow wrinkled for the barest of moments before she put her mug down a bit more heavily than she intended. Everything in her wanted to tell him something false, continue to dance around the issue, but he was far smarter than that, far more intelligent than a lot of people she'd met in her years at SHIELD. He wouldn't believe her, she could tell.

Lane sighed softly and met his eyes. "We're not really running, per se... we were sent here by mistake. Chance, really... When I say you've never heard of where we're from, I _really_ mean you've never heard of it."

She drummed her fingers on the table, then lifted her hand and bit the tip of her thumbnail clean off, wondering how he would take the new information. There was still time to back out of this if she really needed to.

Varric paused for a few beats, now more intrigued than ever. "I consider myself an open-minded kind of guy. Go on," he prompted her, "try me."

Lane shrugged and then pounded what was left of her ale. "Well, what do I got to lose at this point?" Her accent became more pronounced near the end of her statement. She stared into the dwarf's eyes a moment longer before putting both forearms on the table and leaning forward, lowering her voice. "We're from another dimension...er, another _world_ . Emery and I, we're not apostates…we're _mutants_. That is, people who possess inhuman abilities. A mutant with the ability to create portals sent us here."

Her explanation was met with a blank stare and a prolonged silence as the dwarf tried to decide whether Lane was lying to him or simply out of her damned mind. Finally he shook his head in a gesture of confusion and uttered a half-hearted snort. “You know, maybe I deserved that. I did say ‘try me’…though I didn’t really expect you to take that as a challenge. You, uh, want a do-over?”

"You want the truth, and when you get it you don't believe me. Figures!" The woman glanced over her shoulders to make sure they hadn't piqued anyone's interest, but everyone else in the tavern seemed to be drunk or deep into their own conversations or card games. "How would you like to see a 'trick'?" She placed her hand flat on the table in front of her and slowly phased it out of sight using her special power. "This is my ability. I'm able to manipulate my skin so that I appear to vanish, along with anything I'm physically touching. That's why I'm so sparsely dressed; it takes a lot more energy and concentration to make _everything_ on me disappear."

“Okay, now _that_ I don’t see every day,” Varric remarked, eyebrows raised in interest as he watched her hand completely blend in with the surface of the table. But when he looked back up at her, there was still a measure of skepticism in his eyes. “Still, I’m sure there are mages around here who can do the same thing. Not to piss you off or anything, but you have to imagine for a moment exactly what you’re asking me to accept here. ‘I come from another world’ is the sort of batshit claim that normally requires some irrefutable evidence.”

Lane sighed. "This thing with the mages again... Well, you know, it just so happens I _do_ have some proof, besides my wild getup and strange accent." She dug into the small black leather pouch around her waist to fish out the item of great importance, extremely glad that it hadn't been lost during her mission, and then gently laid it open on the table in front of him.

Varric’s gaze traveled down to the badge before him, eyeing the foreign object with great interest. How peculiar…he certainly had never come across anything of the sort in his travels. He glanced up at her once more., curiosity in his eyes. "May I?"

He waited for her consent before reaching over to pick it up and examine it. It appeared to be some sort of metal symbol set into a black leather backing. In the middle of the circular metal, he noted the bird insignia. Around the circle that the bird was contained in were the words _“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division"_ and then _"Special Agent”_. The top half of the badge contained a rectangular information sheet of sorts, along with an image of Lane beneath the heading 'S.H.I.E.L.D.', her full name, and all the way to the right was a square of black and white dots that seemed quite random to him.

Varric couldn't help but marvel a bit as he examined the object, wondering how and _where_ she might have acquired something like this. The picture was not a drawing; it looked just like her, completely realistic. He’d met some damned good artists out there, but something about the hues and tones of the picture told him that it was not the work of a painter.

After several long moments, Varric looked back up at Lane, his brown eyes full of wonder. "Well…you got me there. I've never seen anything like this before.” He shook his head, staring down at her badge absently. “SHIELD, was it…? What sort of organization is that, exactly?"

Lane met Varric's inquisitive gaze. "In short, we're an intelligence and anti-terrorism organization that lends aid outside of the government, and deals with non-human affairs as well. There are…some people who want to see the world burn for being different." Lane shook her head, thinking of Hydra; there'd been an entire class dedicated to Hydra and Red Skull during her time at the SHIELD Academy.

The dwarf exhaled loudly as he sat back, massaging his temples. “Well, I’ve hit my ‘weird shit’ quota, and all in the span of an hour…” Varric suddenly felt like the two drinks he’d already had were not nearly enough for this type of conversation. He shook his head again, having some trouble wrapping his brain around all of this. He hadn’t yet decided whether or not her story was worth believing, but at this point he figured his doubt was best kept to himself. For now, he would simply go along with it. “So you said you were sent here? By some kind of ‘mutant’ with odd powers? How does that even happen?”

"Well, that's a sensitive subject, but maybe while Emery is still out of the room I could let you in on it." Lane ran a hand through her short, dark hair. "You see..." she began, and recounted to him her sordid tale. While taking care not to reveal too much about her work with SHIELD, she explained how she'd been doing reconnaissance missions on her own, trying to locate any places that were known for using mutants in various illegal operations.

"I'd hit the motherload with this one place. I didn't know exactly what I'd gotten myself into. I had planned to just have a quick peek around, but then I saw her. My best friend from our school days...but we hadn't parted on good terms. I just couldn't leave her there...I broke her out, and that's when I realized I'd tripped an alarm. They sent down two of their mutants, and while we did put up a good fight, the one called 'Exile' used his ability to send us here. It felt like hours, floating through that swirling tunnel. It was maddening, really. I didn't know what to expect. I thought he'd sent us to Great Britain when I heard Anders and Hawke speak, but...well, here we are."

She had finished speaking, but Varric found that he could only blink in disbelief for several long seconds.

Finally he let out a long sigh. "You know...when you talk about it like that, it really makes me think you're not crazy after all." When she opened her mouth to interject, he quickly held up a hand. "Believe me, I know a thing or two about lies, but—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I actually don’t think you’re lying. I'm just having a little trouble with, uh…processing all of it. If...what you say is true, then...shit, that would change a lot of things as we know them. Shit…”

If she _wasn’t_ crazy, then that left him with a heap of new information he didn’t know quite how to deal with…and two potentially _dangerous_ foreigners running amok in his city. But then, Varric never _was_ one to avoid danger. He was nosy to a fault. Besides, the newcomers didn’t exactly seem like a couple of serial killers.

In fact, he felt more intrigued than anything else. Theirs was the sort of story that one couldn’t simply make up. Who in the world would even bother to craft some elaborate tale that nobody in Thedas could possibly understand? It was almost too bizarre to be false.

“I can see why Blondie delegated this situation to me,” he remarked with a light snort. “Figures. Nice of Hawke to bolt at the first opportunity.”

Lane snorted and rolled her eyes. "He sure did, which is why all our drinks tonight are on him." She lifted two more fingers to the waitress, signaling for her to bring more ale.

After having that talk with Varric, Lane began to feel a little peace settle over her upon the realization of what it meant to be out of her own world…only to feel something wrench in her stomach a second later as she remembered how she'd acted earlier.

"Damn, but no wonder…I was such a huge jerk to Anders and Hawke! Oh God, I'm so embarrassed about how I ranted... " She sighed loudly, dragging a hand down her face as she felt the shame of her earlier actions hit her very suddenly.

"Oh, believe me, those two are tougher than they look. They can take it. Just be glad it was only Hawke you ran into and not a Templar, or worse…" Varric didn’t want to imagine what would have happened to her if she’d encountered, say, _Meredith_ instead.

"Varric, thank you." Lane reached across the table to pat the dwarf’s hand in a sign of gratitude.

Varric chuckled. "Happy to help!” At least he thought so, anyway…Lane’s story had left him with more questions than answers. His head was spinning, and he was fairly sure it wasn’t just due to alcohol.

Lane managed a small smile. “At least Emery will be safe here for now… But,” she continued as she nibbled at the end of one fingernail, “there’s still a lot that we haven’t figured out. I guess the question is, what are we going to do in the meantime…?”

“Well, it’s no ticket home or anything, but I think I could arrange for you and Emery to stay here for a little while,” Varric answered after only a moment of hesitation. “There are a couple of extra rooms in the back and I’m on pretty good terms with the owner of the place.”

“You’d do that?!” Lane beamed back at him as he nodded. “That’d be great, thank you.”

“Think nothing of it! No trouble, really.”

“Speaking of trouble, I think I ought to go apologize to the multitude of people I’ve offended today,” she said, a nervous laughter bubbling up from her chest as she ran her fingers through her short brown hair. “I know I’m no walk in the park to deal with…”

Varric waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about Hawke, he’ll understand. He’s not really the type to hold a grudge. In fact, I think he’d forgive almost anything for a nice plate of baked lasagna,” he snorted. “Guy loves the stuff. Although a bit of advice for you,” he added as he leaned forward a bit to look Lane in the eye, “Kirkwall isn’t without its problems. There’s a good chance you could be mistaken for an apostate yourself, so I’d suggest laying low until you figure out your next move.”

Lane bit off the top of the nail she’d been chewing on and nodded. “Good point. I think…what I’d really like to do is begin my reconnaissance on the most basic level by gathering information. I don’t know if the people who sent us here actually _know_ that we’re here. What if it was a mistake or a one-time deal? Or, you never know, maybe they had a good reason for choosing this place… Either way, if we have to live here for any amount of time then I need to know what the hell is going on. Do my research, you know? Do you have a library or somewhere with a lot of books? Hell, I don’t know, maybe you have a different name for it. I’m just thanking my lucky stars that we speak the same language and not some gibberish I’m not familiar with. Can you imagine how badly _that_ would have gone over??” She chuckled to herself.

Varric grinned cheekily. “Depending on where you were dropped, that could’ve been a very unfortunate reality for you.” He tapped his fingers to his chin, thinking about her request. “Well, I hear the chantry in Hightown has a pretty snazzy library. I don’t go in there often myself, but I’m sure one of the others could be convinced to take you there.” He looked up just then as Isabela, Emery and Anders rejoined them at the table. “About time you all came back. I was beginning to think that Lane had an imaginary friend!”

Lane turned her attention to Emery, smiling as she patted the seat beside her. “Ohhhh, you look nice!”

“She is quite a doll, isn’t she!” Isabela remarked as she admired her handiwork. “Shame she wouldn’t let me show her off a bit more.”

Emery forced a chuckle, smoothing out the garments she’d borrowed from Isabela. Unsurprisingly, the pirate owned nothing that wasn’t either skintight, revealing or both, though at least there had been some sort of corset in the back of Isabela’s wardrobe that covered more of her than the others had. The stitched trousers, though form-fitting, were thankfully quite comfortable. She sat down in the chair beside Lane and nodded a greeting to Varric. The initial nervousness was still present within her, but she had to admit that Isabela, for all her wanton sauciness, was rather good at lightening the mood and seemed to have decent intentions. As did Anders, although Emery still sensed something about him that made her hesitant to drop her guard.

She shook that from her mind for the moment as Varric held out his hand for an introduction, and she cautiously gripped it. “Emery. I…guess it’s nice to meet you. Considering the circumstances.”

“Likewise!” Varric agreed.

Anders found himself relieved, glad that Varric could straighten out the situation. He still had a lot of questions, but he supposed he would get the chance to ask them later. He carefully met Lane’s eyes and when she immediately patted the seat on her other side, he reluctantly sat down beside her.

“Anders,” Lane began, clearing her throat several times. “I…I, uh…” She sighed, feeling foolish. “I’m sorry that I acted like a total bitch. I was scared and in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people and you were the person who was trying to help us. You even brought us to Varric! He’s been a _huge_ help, you see. So I have to say, again, I’m sorry. And thank you. And…you _do_ look nice in a dress,” she added as she looked away, watching the waitress bring them all drinks.

Anders shook his head slightly. “I’ll accept your apology, but only on the condition that you stop calling my robes a _dress_ ,” he said as he made a slight face, though a moment later his lips turned up in a small smile.

Varric glanced from Lane to Emery. “So Lane mentioned that the two of you have some unique circumstances. I’m sure she can fill you in later about that conversation, but the important part was me offering to arrange for the two of you to stay here for a while. Until you can get back on your feet.”

Emery quirked an eyebrow at this information. “Really…? Why? I mean…you don’t even know us. We could be anyone. Why should you trust us?”

“Heh. I didn’t really say anything about trust, did I?” Varric gave her a smirk. “Maybe I just have a lot of confidence in myself. But, in all seriousness, I’ve learned to recognize someone who just needs a hand. Maybe that just makes me a sucker,” he said as he took a sip of the drink that had just been placed before him.

Emery found her lips twitching into something of an awkward smile. Somehow, the fact that Varric admitted to not trusting them just yet made her feel more at ease. It was good not to be so trusting. It helped her believe that perhaps Varric might be worth a little of her own trust. Only time would tell her that for sure.

“Anyway,” Varric continued as he rose from his seat. “There’s the owner of the tavern. I’ll just go have a quick word with him about those rooms and be back in a moment.”

Lane suddenly grabbed Anders’ sleeve as Varric excused himself from the table. “Hey. Do you…think there’s a way we could meet again? Also with Hawke,” she added, embarrassment creeping up on her once again as she looked away to study an interesting splotch of blood on the wall. “I know he must hate me, but I’d like to set things right. And I have questions for you…about apostates and things…”

“Of course,” he replied readily. “We’re regulars in this tavern, although I have a feeling if Hawke saw you again he would probably run in the other direction.” Anders smirked at that. “Perhaps I could just bring him along one day and not tell him you’re staying here.”

“Perfect,” Lane replied. She glanced at Emery. “I think we really ought to go get some rest. It’s been a long night and day for us…”

Emery nodded in response. She’d steered clear of the alcohol, though in a way it was comforting for her to see Lane loosening up enough for the both of them. She watched Varric saunter back to their table and sit down. “So…what’s the verdict?”

Varric met her eyes. “He says you have five minutes to get the hell out of his tavern.” After a moment, the dwarf laughed at the looks on their faces. “I’m kidding you, of course. He’s fine with it!”

“Ass!” Lane smacked him lightly on the arm. “Alright, well…let’s get going for now.” She stood and gave Varric a sincere look. “Thanks for everything, Shorty. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.” Her eyes flickered to the mage’s. “And don’t forget, okay Anders?”

“I won’t forget,” he assured her. “Although it may be a while. My patients have been piling up while we were away on that mission…”

“Damn, you’re a doctor too? Well, yeah, I guess you did heal me out there, huh?”

“If you mean a healer, then yes. Perhaps I’ll show you sometime.”

Emery stood next, pushing in her chair and nodding to Varric as she stepped past him. “Thanks again. I’ll…find a way to pay you back for this. You said the last room on the left, right?”

“That’s the one! And don’t be afraid to come knocking on my door if you run into any trouble. Can’t promise you I won’t be cranky if it’s during the middle of the night, but feel free to try your luck!” He said with a wink as both girls turned and made their way up the stairs toward the rooms.

The back of the tavern was no better than the front in terms of cleanliness and upkeep. Parts of the walls in the corridor were crumbling and had been boarded up in an attempt to keep them standing. In the corner at the far end was a large pile of random debris, dirt and a bit of trash from previous occupants who couldn’t be bothered to find an actual garbage disposal site. Not to mention the smell had become rather dank and unpleasant. Still, neither mutant could complain. It was a place to stay, free of charge, and they were both quite grateful for it.

They entered the designated room and Lane shut the door quietly behind them, its hinges groaning as she did so. Her eyes swept around the area, taking in its simple structures. There were two twin-sized beds with a worn dresser between them. A lantern and some matches were set upon it. There was also a small table and a couple of rickety chairs across from the beds.

Lane sat down onto one of the beds, noting that at least the sheets seemed somewhat clean. “Home, sweet home!” She remarked, patting her bed and noting how it was so unlike the mattresses she had always slept upon.

Emery sank down onto the other bed. It was quite firm, but for all she cared it could have been a mound of dirt and still have been better than what she’d been sleeping on for the past four years. She was content to let the silence fill the air for the moment, relishing in it after such a hectic day.

Finally, Lane glanced up at her best friend. “So, um…there’s good news and also bad news.”

“Okay…what is it?”

“The good news is that we’re _definitely_ not in our dimension.”

Emery quirked an eyebrow. “ _That’s_ the good news?”

Lane smiled back. “Yes…we’re safe here. _You’re_ safe here.”

Emery was silent for a moment, thinking back over the day’s events. It did make sense. She had been wondering if they’d simply been cast into the past, but…this was certainly possible too. She knew next to nothing about Exile’s abilities, though she supposed there was no reason to think that he wasn’t capable of creating portals to other worlds as well as other places on Earth.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “You really think it’s safe here?”

“Just as long as we lay low…because that’s where the bad news comes in. You remember how Anders was going on about apostates and mages…that’s because they’re pretty much this world’s version of mutants,” she explained with a sigh. “And from what I could tell, they’re even more heavily oppressed than we are back in our world…”

Emery shook her head at that, scoffing bitterly. “Of course they are. When is there _not_ rampant oppression? People like conflict too much for there to be peace in any world.” She ran a hand through her long, tangled hair. “Well, then…that explains an awful lot.”

“Yeah,” Lane agreed quietly. “But at least you’re…not _there_ anymore…” She was choosing her words carefully, not wanting to say anything explicit about the place they’d come from. Lane wanted to take things slow and ease Emery back into regular interactions. She figured today’s adventure must have been close to an overload. She began to absentmindedly chew on her thumbnail. “I don’t suppose they have showers or anything, heh… We can live back in medieval times, but we don’t have to smell gross.”

Emery shrugged, looking around a bit. “I think I heard Varric say something about a bath. It must be in a separate room.” Her eyes met Lane’s again and she offered her a smirk. “We could just stand guard for each other,” she said as she let her eyes roam up toward the ceiling, studying the fading wooden slats and wondering briefly how sturdy they were. She would never had predicted a turn of events like today’s. it was all so overwhelming that she still found herself trying to process it all. If she thought too much about it, she felt as though her head might burst, so she was doing her best to push it to the back of her mind.

Best to think it over with a clear head tomorrow, once she was rested and ready to deal with it. For now, a bath and a good night’s sleep sounded pretty damn good to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Crisis averted. Maybe.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! See you next chapter! :)


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